The Princess' Guide to Orchestrating the Zombie Apocalypse
by 9RiS6
Summary: This is the story of a unladylike Princess who inadvertently sets up and begins the zombie apocalypse. It shall have zombies, love, teen angst, zombies, handholding/hugs, violence, zombies, and a princess. *I hope it is better then i describe* PLZ GIVE IT A CHANCE 3


**A/N: Hello ff, so this is my first posted fanfiction in a while. Possible ever, yeah I know. So, please review in the post polite way you can if you don't like it feel free to tell me. And yeah, oh! If you want to name a person feel free to send me names. J in case someone gets s name *cough* twohotguys*cough* thx -9Ris6 (I do not own the rights to the songs sung in this story)**

Chapter 1

Bacon. Eggs. Rye toast. And undercooked home fries. _Dear P.T.B, don't make me eat this! _The bacon is out and has been for two years; I'm a vegetarian. Eggs, I've never liked eating unfertilized babies. Who under the age of 50 eats rye toast! But home fries. Who messes up HOMEFRIES?

"Love, you need to eat something. This is a very healthy meal which cook took the time to make. At least show some gratitude and taste something." Mother whispers to me.

"I can't" I mumble, poking at the vial food on my plate. _Maybe if I faint, I make an excuse and walk off to my room…no, father would send me to the infirmary._

My life is not normal. One might say it is privileged life; being the daughter of really really really rich guy, who just so happens to run the country as well. Yeah, that makes me, the princess.

Usually, we have fresh fruit, croissants, crepes, and tea for breakfast. But no, today we are having what our new cook likes to call a "humbling" meal. More like he can't actually cook! I look down at my plate again; the potato can be eaten raw, so maybe I'll live if I eat that. Glancing back at my mother again, I can see she is watching me, making sure I eat it. _ Damn!_ I bring the food to my mouth, slowly to delay me doom.

Mother smiles at me when I begin to chew it. _Yeah, you're not the one with god-knows-what in your mouth right now. _It tastes worse than it looked. Kind of a spicy, greasy, lemony, potato ball. Yeah, I may not live to see tomorrow.

"It is," _God how do I put this without ending up with a lecture_ "quite good." I smile and put one more small piece in my mouth.

"How wonderful! I shall make them more often for you little princess" The cook walks out the room, I can't tell if he is content with my liking or if he knows I hate this and is relishing in my grief.

"Mother, may I be excused to my room please?" I say it with as much sweet little girl tone as I can. Hoping to guilt her into compliance.

She looks at me skeptically for a moment, "Of course my darling, I'll come to you later for tea." She then goes back to her own food, looking at it much like I had.

_Ha! She doesn't like it either! _I rise from the table and walk to my room, as quickly as I can without being rude.

I take a shower and brush my teeth four times to get rid of the taste of breakfast. It goes nowhere! I hate that I sound like a prissy little princes, but come on! I am picky about one thing. ONE! And I have to settle with it anyway.

Lying down on my bed I put I earbudds in and turn up the volume.

_Here amongst my wildest dreams;Love it grows on trees;Fall is once a year;And dads don't leave;In my wildest dreams;Everyone thinks in green;The birds sing Fur Elise;To me. _

If anything will fix my mood, it is music! When I was 6 my parents insisted I learn to play an instrument with a degree of clarity. That was the only year I could ever play piano; ask me today and the most you get it three keys that sound nice together. Now all I can listen to is alt. music, not complaining I really do love it!

I look around my room, it's a mess; _Perfection. _Mother will hate it.

I wish I could climb out onto my balcony, but that was barred off after I tried to climb down to the garden and over the palace wall. _I wonder what's going on outside?_

You would think that as a princess I can walk about and do as I please. Well, no. I have to look pretty, be polite, and always be available to whoever seeks my presence. Even when it means sitting quietly by the side of some rich dude, while he and his friends go on and on about something that doesn't even matter!

I got a glance of the village once, when we were traveling from our ship to the castle after visiting a family in Geneva. All I saw was an elderly man in black handing a young women a pink bottle, then Mother closed the curtain. I wonder what it was; why she needed it. Father says our people have all they will ever need.

I don't really believe that but it isn't like I can tell father that one of the servants brings their brother to work with him so he won't get picked up by a smuggler or brought into an "illegal goods" ring.

_Speaking of Denny he should be here by now…_Denny always brought tea an hour early. Either he really likes me or he really likes his job (NOT!) or he like to nap…on my bed…with me.

Denny has worked at the palace for about three years. His first year he got lost on his way to my room and Mother nearly sacked him then. I would have missed his warm arms around my waist as we lay on my bed. Denny was almost a foot taller then I and only a year older. He has long dark hair that he ties back in a short ponytail with a ribbon I gave him, and green/gold eyes. Denny has muscles, honest to god, but they don't pop out every time he moves or grabs a random object. _I miss Denny. _

"Knock knock, Princess."


End file.
